


Blood

by heavnofhell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8084590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavnofhell/pseuds/heavnofhell
Summary: Lucifer finds himself topside again, weakened and without memory of how he got there. After falling victim to the humans that find him, he manages to break free of their hold, his heart leading him to exactly where he needs to be.





	

He was alive, he was free of the cage, and yet, it was _anything_ but a blessing. He had been returned without instruction, without explanation and without warning… He had been returned disoriented and confused, and weaker than he knew how to be. In what was entirely unsurprising to the Morning Star, he had, once more, been forsaken by his **Father**. 

In those first few days, defenseless as a fledgling, not yet strong enough even to fly, he had seen the darker side of humanity _first-hand_. Taking him had been simple, but the white-clad, stony-faced humans had not anticipated how quickly his strength would return. He was not nearly as powerful as an archangel _should_ be, but he was far stronger than a normal human, and, with the element of surprise on his side, he easily overwhelmed his impudent captors. 

His blinding rage had faded slowly as he exited the secluded compound, leaving behind the _unsavory_ taste of fear and uncertainty. Lucifer was broken, or, at very least, _horribly_ bent. How much of that was a part of his punishment, and how much was due to what those self-righteous, hairless monkeys had done to him, he could not be sure. 

He wandered, without destination or purpose, his bleeding feet making a trail toward the one unwavering certainty that he _did_ have. It was the same pull that had _always_ called to him - the quiet, indiscernible melody that drifted through his _very_ Grace, and could _never_ be muted, despite how deeply it may have been buried. 

After everything, Lucifer refused to credit **Divine Intervention** for the serendipitous turn his luck then took. He didn’t remember falling, and he certainly did not recall losing consciousness - yet _another_ uncomfortable and loathsome side effect of his new state of existence. He knew only the voice that rang out above the deafening roar of silence, pushing it’s way into his mind slowly, as though it were moving through thick mud. 

His vision returned with a gasping breath, and he had been met by wide, hazel eyes, staring down at him from beneath the shade of a heavy canopy of leaves and branches. **Sam**. Sam had found him - and it was dumb luck - it was sheer _coincidence_ \- because, what it _was not_ , what he would _never even consider_ , was that anyone above this mortal plain still cared enough to offer him this **deliverance**. 

The hunter had been wary, of course; and yet, he also seemed _relieved_. Lucifer’s condition, coupled with the fortuitous momentary absence of the elder hunter, had bestowed Sam with a sense of _confidence_. Hardly a word was exchanged between them, Sam taking Lucifer to a nearby motel, where he quickly tended to the worst of his wounds. The loss of the archangel’s abilities, along with his physical state, in general, was acknowledged without discussion, a silence lingering between them once Sam had finished bandaging up the fallen angel.

“I’m sorry, but… I _really_ have to go. We’re on a hunt, and Dean’s gonna be wondering where I am.” Sam spoke quickly and nervously, licking his lips as he glanced around the room distractedly. “I’ll, uh… I’ll stop back later - to check in on you. But, if you need something - “ He moved over to the bedside table, reaching the top drawer and pulling out a pen and pad. Scrawling his cell number across the white paper, he turned back toward Lucifer, gesturing toward the phone. 

“This is my number. Do you know how to use a phone? Just, pick up the receiver, and press these numbers in this order, and…” He trailed off as he looked back at the archangel, the cool sapphire gaze watching him closely, his expression calm and unreadable. “And I’ll answer.” He finished quietly, clearing his throat as he turned and placed the pad back beside the telephone. 

“Okay. I’m gonna go, now. You sure you’ll be alright?” He glanced up at Lucifer slowly, absent-mindedly chewing on his bottom lip as he awaited a response. 

“ _Yes_.” Lucifer finally spoke, his voice quiet and strained, and Sam found himself biting his lip a little harder, pushing back the smile that threatened to bloom across his face. It was a ridiculous and inexplicable reaction, but he could no more deny the happiness brought to him by that cool and familiar voice (however weak it may be), than could he deny himself the need to breathe. 

“I’ll be fine, Sam - thanks to you.” Something just shy of a smile ghosted over Lucifer’s pale lips, and he gave the man a gentle nod, his hands clasped together firmly atop his lap as he gazed up from his place on the edge of the bed. “I will be here when you return.” It was a promise and a wish, one which he could only hope the human would grant him. 

“Yeah - _of course_.” Sam nodded, a lopsided smile finally cracking his nervous expression. “See you then.” He turned and opened the door, drawing it closed behind him, only to hesitate just before it latched. He pushed his head back in, looking back at the expectant archangel. “Oh - and don’t open the door - for _anyone_. I have a key, so… “ He cleared his throat again, adding a quick “Okay.” before pulling it closed tightly behind him. 

* * *

Lucifer spent the next few hours waiting patiently, fighting the unwelcome pull of sleep - a sensation that he was becoming _all too familiar_ with, as of late.  He knew, without full access to his Grace, his vessel needed rest to heal; but that didn’t make him any more eager to succumb to the desire. He needed to stay aware - he could not slip into such a _vulnerable_ state - not when there could very well be real threats lurking nearby. 

In the end, physiological necessity won out over his own obstinance, and Lucifer found himself in a dreary and fitful slumber. After _millennia_ of agony in the bowels of Hell, the archangel found it ironic that his nightmares were of the more recent injustices. Just as a pair of rubber-coated hands reached out to prod at his prone and battered body, the sound of his name, loud and desperate, shattered the gut-wrenching melody of mechanical beeps and clanking of metal tools. 

“ _Sam_.” Lucifer shot up into a seated position, sweat dripping down every inch of his cool skin, his vessel’s muscles protesting the sudden movement. The name fell from his lips before his mind had fully awaken, and it seemed to echo through the tiny motel room, bouncing off of the smoke-stained walls and ringing around in his ears.

Not a second more passed, before the archangel’s bare feet were hitting the floor, and he was moving purposefully toward the locked door. He placed his hand on the doorknob, turning back suddenly and staring down at the bedside table. He crossed back through the room, picking up the phone and shakily punching in the numbers Sam had left him, his brows pinching together as he waited with bated breath. 

After a handful of rings, the younger Winchester’s voice filled the receiver, and Lucifer parted his lips to speak, the words dying on his tongue as he realized that it was merely a projection of Sam’s voice, and not the man, himself. Hastily, the archangel hung up the phone, tearing out the piece of paper and jamming it into the front pocket of his shirt as he made his way out of the room, the door left open behind him.

The pull was undeniable, and Lucifer followed it without question, ignoring the stares and whispers coming his way as he worked a path through the streets of the town. He was faced with taking an occasional detour, growing increasingly frustrated with his inability to simply fly over the buildings and automobiles that obstructed his path, but he _did not_ stop. 

At last, he found himself standing before an old, abandoned restaurant, the cloudy windows covered with old flyers, the door shut, but not quite latched. Without a second thought, Lucifer pushed through the doorway, moving into the interior of the building, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark room. He came to a stop, holding his breath as he listened quietly for any sign of life. Even as he was now, his senses were _extraordinary_ , and he quickly picked up a slight shuffling sound from the rear of the restaurant. 

The archangel moved quickly past the old and crumbling counter, pushing his way through the kitchen and into a back storage area. The moment he pushed through the doorway, he was hit by the strong scent of blood, his foot coming into contact with something solid, yet light enough to be sent sliding a short distance across the floor. 

Cobalt eyes dropped down, landing upon the discarded bag he was certain he had seen in Sam’s possession earlier that day. As his gaze flitted upward, he felt his mouth run dry, the sight of the young hunter, face down in a puddle of blood, assaulting his vision and turning his stomach. It was an uncomfortable and very human reaction to such a sight, and it provoked a hesitance in the archangel, his mind going blank with shock.  

“ _Sam_.” The name tumbled forth again, and it seemed that his own subconscious was doing what it could to pull him back into focus. Lucifer was on his knees beside the human before he could even register the fact that he had moved, his hands gripping either side of Sam’s face, attempting to get a clear look at him. The hunter was _deathly_ pale, a strange darkness settling in around his eyes and throat. Slowly, he managed to blink his eyes open, staring dazedly up at the archangel. 

“Lucifer…” He inhaled shakily, bringing a hand up to grip at Lucifer’s wrist. “What are you.. how did you find me?” 

“You needed me.” His answer was short and concise, his worried eyes fixed upon Sam’s face. “Sam - what can I do?” 

“ _What_ … Oh.” Sam’s eyes slid shut, and he exhaled quietly, swallowing down hard as he attempted to speak again. “My bag. There’s a vial and syringes.” Lucifer had gently extricated himself from Sam’s hold, and was already moving toward the small satchel he had kicked before. He opened it as he returned to the hunter’s side, pulling out the items and lying them on the ground beside the man, slowing to a stop as he came upon the handful of syringes. 

“I need you to inject me with the anti-venom… can you do that?” The words seemed worlds away, Lucifer’s eyes wide and panicked as he stared down at the needle in his now shaking hand. He was trembling _violently_ , in fact - even his teeth were chattering from the involuntary movements. This fear, for _that_ is what he was feeling, was stronger than he had imagined possible, and he _knew_ , this was just another of the impacts his human vessel was having on his de-powered Grace. 

“Lucifer?” Sam’s meek voice drew the angel from the darkness of his thoughts, and he looked back up at the steadily weakening man. “Is something wrong?” The archangel nearly choked at the question, the irony of the moment hitting him with a wave of guilt. He licked his lips, giving a shake of his head and looking back at the items laid out between them. 

“No. It’s my vessel - but it will pass.” He nodded again, taking up a vial in one hand, and the syringe in the other. Sam watched him closely, despite the weariness in his eyes, and gave a tiny nod. 

“Okay. Now you need to put the needle through the top of that bottle, and -” 

“I know, Sam.” He spoke in a hushed voice, sad eyes staring down at his yet shaking hands. 

“You _know_? _How_?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly and closing his eyes. He _had_ to do this. He _had_ to. It didn’t matter if his entire body seemed to be reeling at the idea - he _had_ to save Sam. With all the willpower he could muster, Lucifer reopened his eyes, steadying his hands long enough to draw the fluid from the vial, and into the syringe. 

When he looked back up, Sam was already attempting to roll up his sleeve, and Lucifer reached out to help him, gripping his arm gently, and pushing the needle through his skin. He acted quickly and fluidly, unable to risk how his body might react, should he hesitate. Once the fluid was administered, Lucifer tossed the syringe to the side, unwilling to look at it for even a moment longer. 

“Sam -” His words were cut short by a sudden movement from behind, and Lucifer whirled around just in time to be met by a blow to the side of his face, sending him crashing down onto his side. As the attacker lunged forward, he managed to scramble to his feet, gripping the creature’s wrist as she advanced with another strike. 

“Lucifer! Be careful! There’s a stinger in her palm! And don’t look at her eyes!” Sam was struggling to push himself up, already looking significantly better than he had only a moment before. 

“I know, Sam. I can _see_ her. She’s a **Basilisk**.” Lucifer narrowed his eyes at the creature - she had taken a human form, but, to an archangel, the truth of what she was shone through as clearly as the sun. _Seeing_ her, however, gave him only a slight advantage. Basilisks were strong beasts, and she was quickly overpowering the battered archangel. 

With little else to rely on but brute strength, Lucifer resorted to bringing his leg up and thrusting his knee hard into the beast’s gut. The considerable force, along with the shock of the act, threw her momentarily off-balance, and he took the opportunity to lunge forward, gripping her throat and flipping her flat onto her back. She looked up at him with a snarl, her deep brown eyes shifting to a silvery-blue.

“You’ll need to do better.” His voice was chillingly low and calm, and, with speed that served as proof his Grace was still _somewhere_ within him, he moved his hands to either side of her head, leaning forward and gouging out her eyes with the sheer pressure from his thumbs. 

The Basilisk began to scream and wail, striking Lucifer across the side with horrific force, the archangel colliding solidly with one of the tall shelves in the room, and landing heavily upon the ground. The air was sucked from his lungs, and he turned slowly onto his back, writhing from the discomfort. The creature continued to screech, her form quickly shifting into her natural serpentine shape as she sought out her assailant. Just as she was closing in upon him, the alarming sound of a blade cutting through flesh silenced her screams, and the body fell forward, landing mere inches from where Lucifer was strewn across the concrete. 

“Lucifer!” Sam was moving around the fallen beast and on his knees by the archangel in a moment, his blade dropping at his side as he reached out to help Lucifer into a seated position. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes…” He answered in breathy voice, struggling to control the air moving in and out of his lungs. “What about you?” He winced slightly as he looked back up at Sam, his head throbbing from the impact. 

“Yeah… yeah. I’ll be fine. If you hand’t shown up…” Sam shook his head, staring at Lucifer as if really _seeing_ him for the first time. Lucifer had _saved_ him. The entire situation was almost too surreal to fathom, and, considering all that Sam had seen in his lifetime, that was saying something. The archangel had not only practically fallen into the hunter’s lap earlier that day, but had then shown up at the exact moment Sam had needed him. It was nothing short of **miraculous**. 

“Thank you.” Sam sighed quietly, looking to Lucifer with utter sincerity. He knew that those two words could not begin to sum up what he was feeling in that moment - what he had been feeling for a _very long time_ , in fact - but, at very least, it was a start. 

“Of course, Sam. You don’t need to thank me. It’s the least that I could do.” A beat of silence passed between them, and suddenly Sam began laughing. It was low and quiet, but filled with a genuine _happiness_. Lucifer watched him quietly, the corners of his own lips turning up just a touch. 

“Okay.” Sam took a few deep breaths, containing his laughter, a wide smile set firmly upon his face. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.” He reached down to help Lucifer up, taking a moment to allow the archangel to steady himself. Slowly, they began walking toward the doorway, nearly nearing the exit when Sam stepped on something, lifting his foot quickly when he heard the crunching sound. 

They both looked down to see the broken syringe, Lucifer’s body immediately going rigid in Sam’s grip. His jaw tensed up, and he closed his eyes, taking a few deep, measured breaths. 

“Hey - what is it?” Sam’s deep voice was quiet and gentle, and he impulsively tightened his grip around the angel’s waist. “This isn’t just about your vessel, is it? Lucifer… What happened? Before I found you, did someone do this to you?” 

Lucifer remained quiet a moment longer, his eyes sliding slowly open, but focused up at the exit, and far from the discarded syringe at his feet. Even so, he could not eradicate the visions that raced through his mind: needles pushed relentlessly into his flesh, vial after vial of blood, sucked from his vessel and carted away - substances of all colors injected into his drained veins… The images seemed to be painted behind his eyelids, assaulting him every time he closed his eyes. 

“I don’t know.” His voice was scarcely more than a whisper, and he blinked slowly, training his icy eyes onto the concerned hunter. “Humans - they did _something_ to me… but my Grace was trapped before that. Sam - I don’t… I don’t know _what’s_ wrong with me.” His eyes flitted back toward the doorway, his lips pressed together in a tight line as he struggled to remain impassive. 

“Hey, ya know what? It’s _fine_. We’ll figure it out, okay?” Sam smiled weakly at the archangel, and Lucifer glanced to him curiously, a hint of wonder in his gaze. “But for now, let’s just get you somewhere safe, hm? We can worry about all of that later.” He gave the arm draped over his shoulder a gentle squeeze, shuffling forward slowly as he guided Lucifer toward the door. 

“ _Later_ …” Lucifer echoed the word quietly, giving a little nod in response, and following Sam’s lead as they exited the old building. He had never thought that one, _simple_ word could mean _so much_ \- but it was a **promise** , just as it had been when Sam had used it back in the motel room. There _would_ be a later; Sam made it clear that he saw a future that included the archangel, however subtly he had done so. Lucifer breathed out again, pushing a little more into the hunter’s side, his voice tired, but filled with a hopeful happiness. “Later sounds good.” 


End file.
